


A Devil Put Aside For Me

by The_ship_that_wont_sink



Series: A Risk Worth Taking [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Mild Language, Plotbunnies, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:16:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_ship_that_wont_sink/pseuds/The_ship_that_wont_sink
Summary: Sara and Ava visit an old friend to help them in their quest to destroy Mallus, while Ava realises she is beginning to take risks for Sara that may put her job in jeopardy.Contains spoilers up to 3x09, but becomes cannon divergent from there - any similarities are coincidental because this was written before I'd seen 3x10 onwards





	1. A little silhouetto of a man

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, episode 2 has arrived...
> 
> It's plot heavy, and contains A LOT of Rip. And a little bit more angst than I originally intended. And long. Because apparently I don't know how to limit myself!!
> 
> Its also quite different to the first episode, but I still hope that you guys enjoy it. Just remember that this is setting up for things to come.
> 
> The title is from Queens Bohemian Rhapsody, because of the most tenuous link to one of the lines in the story, and because - why not?!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading anyway...

15:01

Ava Sharpe looked at her watch for what must have been the hundredth time in the last five minutes.

She huffed. Sara Lance was officially late.

She paced back across the open plan of the Time Bureau’s 36th floor and into her office, drawing a few sidelong glances from her colleagues as she did so. She took in a deep, calming breath. She didn't need to draw any unwanted attention to herself this afternoon, or well, ever really, but this afternoon in particular. And she certainly didn’t need her colleagues to start suspecting that she was going as crazy as she believed herself to be. Even Gary had been avoiding her since lunch. Things had to be bad.

 

15:02

Would it have hurt Sara to be on time? The woman was the Captain of an actual time ship for God-sake.

Not that it mattered that Sara was a few minutes late. Not really. Just because Ava was a proud advocate of punctuality, she shouldn’t expect everyone to be. And if there was ever anyone she should _not_ expect to be punctual, that person was Captain Lance.

The thought was almost enough to make her smile.

 

15:03

It had been four days since she had last seen Sara. Four days of trying to put the woman out of her mind. Four days of trying to distract herself with a mountain of paperwork, and ice cream, and over-feeding her cat.

It had been three days since she had been forced to admit that none of that was working, and that all she was in fact doing, other than giving her cat diabetes, was thinking about the woman in question.

It was three days since she realised (or had pointed out to her – thanks Gary) that every time she thought of the Captain, a dopey grin would appear on her face. Three days since she began to understand what the warm feeling deep in her chest might actually mean.

It was two days since she had given up all pretence and admitted to herself that Sara was more than just a work colleague. More than just the nuisance she had been tasked with looking after. More than just anybody. It was two days since she admitted to herself that she might like Sara in a way that was more than just liking.

None of which meant she had to start acting like a teenage girl.

And none of which meant she had to be happy about it.

 

15:04

And now Sara was late.

 

15:05

She stalked over to the phone on her desk and dialled the number for the main reception on the ground floor.

“Hello? This is Agent Sharpe, floor 36. I’m expecting a guest, has anyone arrived?”

...

“No? Okay. If you could call up to my office extension when she gets here please.”

....

“The name? Sara Lance. Yes. Thank you.”

...

She put the phone down again with only a little more force than necessary and sighed.

“Aww, you keen to see me, Agent Sharpe?”

A familiar teasing voice came from just the other side of her desk, and Ava shot a foot up into the air, heart pounding rapidly in her chest.

“Jesus...” She cursed, trying to get her heart rate back under control. “Have you ever thought of knocking like a normal person and not sneaking in like some...”

“...Assassin?” Sara supplied helpfully. “Nope. Where’s the fun in that?”

She was leant casually against the desk. Legs crossed out in front of her. Relaxed and at ease. Her fingers toyed with the industrial sized stapler Ava kept there, drumming to some tune only she could hear. Every now and again one of her rings would click against the machine, drawing Ava's eye. She noticed Sara had a fresh bandage wrapped tightly around her right hand.

“And how did you get passed the security on reception anyway...?” Ava enquired, rounding the desk and getting a proper look at the Captain’s face. “Wait, on second thoughts, never mind.” She back-tracked, seeing the trademark Sara Lance smirk start to appear.

Despite the irritating smirk, Ava had to admit that Sara looked good. Really good. There was a touch of colour to her normally pale complexion and the sun had brought out her freckles. It clearly agreed with her. Her tousled blonde hair fell in waves about her shoulders. And her eyes... Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she grinned playfully up at Ava.

It was then that she noticed Sara's outfit.

As a general rule, nobody ever looked good in a polyblend pantsuit. Without being conceited, Ava would admit that she could pull it off better than most. But still, she was sure that Hunter had chosen this attire for them to wear for its particular brand of uniformly bland unoriginality and complete lack of personality. Put this suit on and suddenly become invisible. That was the way it went.

And yet somehow, here was Sara Lance, stood in front of her, wearing that very same suit. Looking like she was about to walk down the catwalk or pose for some billion dollar photoshoot. Looking like temptation and danger, and completely and utterly distracting.

Ava had to do a double take.

She realised her mouth was hanging open and quickly snapped it shut, but Sara was already looking at her with that annoying smirk back on her face. Her full lips pursed knowingly.

An uninvited memory washed over her, of those full lips crashing hungrily into her own. Something stirred in her belly. She cleared her throat quickly against it.

“You're...” Ava started, but had to stop, realising she didn’t have an end to her sentence. Sara raised an eyebrow.

“You’re wearing my suit.” She finally managed to spit out.

Yeah, real smooth Ava.

Sara gave a half shrug.

“Well, you told me to blend in so... Do you think the glasses are too much?”

She plucked a pair of square black rimmed glasses out of her blazer pocket and put them on.

“I couldn’t decide. Gideon said yes, and they really work for Kara...”

Ava coughed. Or choked. One of the two. This woman was literally going to be the death of her.

“Who?” Was all she managed to get out.

“Oh, my friend Kara. You wouldn’t know her. She’s, ah.. not from around these parts.”

“Right.”

Ava wasn’t entirely sure why they were talking about some random woman called Kara, but at least it gave her a small reprieve to clear her head.

“Well they aren’t necessary. Just put this on...”

She handed Sara a visitor tag, which the Captain pinned to the front of her blazer, while Ava prayed the woman would do as she asked and lose the glasses; there was no way she would be able to concentrate on anything if Sara kept them on.

“Ready?” She said, taking a deep breath as Sara nodded, and then strode out of her office as confident as she could manage. Trying to look as though she had every right to be there, doing what she was about to do, with the woman she was about to do it with.

***

She had managed to arrange for herself and Sara to visit Director Hunter in his cell that afternoon.

It wasn’t strictly by the book. Well, unless that book happened to be called ‘how to break into prison’ and was written by Rory and Snart.

She might have been able to wrangle herself a visit without too much bother, but Sara was another matter entirely. She wasn’t even technically a Bureau employee. She doubted that Sara had even signed the official secrets act. She wasn’t sure she would even be able to sign it, what with her ambiguous ‘death’ status. But most compellingly, Ava knew for a fact that Sara was actively disliked by anyone with even a slither of seniority within the Bureau. And therefore she knew that, no, Sara would not be getting in to see Hunter.

She had pulled some strings. Called in some favours. And so she was told that if she happened to be at the prison between 1530 and 1600 hours today, the guard would be dealing with some very important personal matters and would be away from his desk. And in a serious breach of protocol, the key to a certain cell would just so happen to have been left out. Then in a fortuitous twist of fate, essential maintenance on the surveillance of that very same cell would render it unable to be monitored just within that particular time frame.

The whole thing set her teeth on edge. This wasn’t her. She had literally never done anything like this. Even before the whole business with the SCPD, the most she had ever done was cut a few corners, shake up a few witnesses, or fudge a few facts; just the usual stuff that everyone was doing. But since then, well she had made sure to follow the rule book to the letter. Never once stepping out of line.

And then she had met Sara.

The funny thing was, even though this whole business was giving her nightmares, her nails were bitten down to the quick and she was jumping at her own shadow; she hadn't once thought to shut Sara out. Hadn’t once even considered leaving her out in the cold. That just wasn’t an option.

***

15:10

The elevator seemed about half it’s normal size as they took the long journey down. The walls felt as though they were closing in on her as various agents entered and departed, and she felt her breathing rate begin to pick up. She could sense Sara’s presence next to her. Smell the subtle hints of her perfume. She wasn’t sure if it was comforting or making matters worse.

She felt a gentle hand rest on her forearm, rubbing a light pattern over her sleeve.

“Relax. Just breathe, okay? You got this”

Sara’s voice was soft as she leaned in to whisper against Ava's ear.

Ava glanced sharply around the lift but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. She made a conscious effort to loosen her posture, to calm her breathing; in through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose; out through the mouth. This was just another mission. Nothing to get worked up about.

Sara shifted away from her again but her hand remained where it was on her arm. The light touch helped to ground her, and Ava felt grateful to the other woman for seeming to know just what she needed.

The elevator pinged for floor 1, and Ava strode out, breathing an invisible sigh of relief. Sara followed just behind her, an inquisitive look on her face.

Ava herself had been surprised at how well hidden the Bureau prisons were when she had first learned of their location. But then, officially, they didn’t exist. Even half the employees here didn’t have any clue about them. Ava herself didn’t even know, Hunter aside, exactly who or what they kept locked away down there. That was strictly highest level knowledge.

And now she was effectively breaking into said prison. She swallowed with difficulty.

Employing all the techniques she knew to keep her mind calm, she lead them through the maze of first floor corridors. She was walking too fast. It didn’t look normal. Consciously she slowed her pace. There weren’t many people around on this level, luckily, but then that only meant that they would draw all the more attention to themselves if they didn’t act natural. Something her companion didn’t seem to have a problem with, she noted somewhat enviously.

They reached the next bank of lifts without incident. Ava swiped her pass and the doors opened. She at least had a high enough rank to get them this far without having to resort to breaking any more rules.

Once the doors closed behind them, Sara turned to her, face serious and her eyes sincere.

“You good?” She asked without judgement.

“I’m fine.” Ava replied, ensuring she kept her voice as neutral as possible.

“I thought that was normally my line.” Sara quipped, a rueful smile on her face, which Ava couldn’t help but return.

“Look, Ava, it’s not too late to turn back, we don’t have to do this, you know. We don't need Rip. We’ve got our plan, we can do it without him.”

Ava felt her ears pop as the lift descended storeys underground. She met Sara's eyes.

“No. We do. If we are actually going to go through with your hair-brained plan then we need Hunter and his knowledge. We need all the help we can get.”

Her own words actually made her feel a little better about the whole thing. She had made her decision. Yes, if she got caught she would likely find herself suddenly unemployed. But some things were worth the risk. Some things were more important than the rules. And she could _not_ believe that she, Ava Sharpe, had just thought such a thing!

Sara reached out her good hand and took Ava's in her own, taking the agent by surprise. Her grip was firm and the touch put Ava immediately at ease. She returned the pressure. Sara was still looking at her, holding her gaze with as much strength as she was gripping her hand.

“Then thank you. I really do appreciate this Ava.”

The elevator came to an abrupt stop. Sara gave her hand one final squeeze before letting go. Ava acutely felt the loss of contact. She gathered her thoughts and then stepped through as the doors opened.

Ava's eyes lit upon Sara once again as they exited the elevator. She enjoyed a smirk of her own at the look of confusion on the Captain's face. Savouring the rare opportunity to catch her out.

“What the hell?” Sara breathed, her eyes scanning the subway platform they had alighted onto.

“What? You didn’t think the Bureau would have been idiotic enough to have put their prison directly underneath the building did you?” Ava supplied, still smirking.

“Well. Yes.” Sara replied with a slight quirk of her lips. “So if we're not staying at the bureau, then where're we going exactly?”

Ava swiped her card down the side of a panel, and then leant down to allow for the retina scan. Moments later what looked to be a tube train carriage appeared in the tracks next to the platform, it’s doors open.

Ava motioned for Sara climb on board, and she followed closely behind.

“It's not so much where we're going... But when.”

She tapped the destination code she’d been given into a panel and sat down on one of the rows of seats lining each side of the carriage.

“And to answer your question... I have absolutely no idea. I advise you to take a seat Sara.”

Sara's expression twisted from bemused into something resembling annoyance. Ava felt the change deep in her gut. An unpleasant sensation.

“And you didn’t think it was worth telling me that? Ava what if something goes wrong? What if my team needs me and _we_ don’t even know when we are?”

Ava hadn’t heard Sara’s voice hard like that since _that_ night. Not directed at her anyway. It was an unpleasant reminder.

“Sara I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was relevant...” The carriage gave a sudden jolt, “Look, come and sit down, we can talk about it later...”

Sara stood there, arms folded across her chest, stubborn to a fault.

“Seriously, Sara, sit down.” Ava's voice was raised in warning.

But it was too late. As Sara began to move towards her the train gave a violent lurch, and Ava found herself held back against the seat by an unnatural force. The same force sent Sara flying backwards, a painful thud sounding out down the carriage as she struck the wall at an awkward angle. She could only watch in alarm as Sara was pinned in place just as surely as Ava herself was. The curse not making it past her lips.

***

15:22

After what seemed like an age, but in reality had probably only been a few minutes, the carriage slowed to a halt and Ava felt herself free to move once again. Nearby, Sara clattered to the heavily to the ground; evidently the forces keeping them both held in place had now dissipated.

Ava jumped up to her feet and ran across to the woman now lying in a heap on the carriage floor.

“Shit...Sara, are you alright?”

She knelt down next to the woman, but even as she did Sara pushed herself up with a groan. Her hands coming to her head, feeling for the bump that was no doubt forming there.

“Urgh... Not fun”

She supplied as she clicked her neck first one way, then the other.

“Are you hurt?” Ava’s voice was more frantic than she had intended.

Sara looked at her.

“Mmm, I’m fine.” She grunted “I’ve had worse, now help me up, will you?”

Ava belatedly offered her hand and assisted the Captain up off the floor.

The carriage doors opened and they both walked out onto a subway platform that was remarkably similar to the one they had departed minutes before. Ava keeping a close eye on her companion. Just in case.

 

15:27

They were waiting outside the lobby of the prison for the guard to leave as promised. And by waiting, of course Ava meant hiding around the corner.

Somehow, now it came down to it, Ava felt eerily calm. She looked across at the woman waiting next to her. Despite her earlier self-possession, it was Sara who now appeared to be on edge.

It was nothing obvious. But she was very quiet and there was a tension to her that hadn’t been there previously. Ava wondered at the cause. Surely, out of the both of them, it was Sara that had the least to lose.

 

15:30

Exactly on time, Ava heard the dull thud of the rubber soled boots of the guard plod heavily away, growing steadily fainter until they were no longer audible.

Her eyes met Sara’s, the blue orbs of the other woman intense as they held each others gaze.

They had agreed. Give it thirty seconds, and then they move.

Ava counted down the time in her head. She could see Sara doing the same. Idly she wondered if this was what it was like, scouting out a mark for the league of assassins. Timing it perfectly. Trusting your accomplice intrinsically. She wondered if this was the look Sara had worn in her eyes. Watching. Waiting. Beautiful and deadly.

Damn it. She'd lost count.

Without missing a beat Sara nodded her head at Ava, and Ava gave a nod back. As if she still had some kind of concept of how long it had been.

They moved out around the corner as one. The lobby was empty.

As Sara cleared the area, Ava moved up to the desk. There, as promised, was the key. Ava looked at it in disbelief. She had assumed it would be some piece of futuristic tech. In her more vivid nightmares it had been an eyeball, the only one that would pass the retina scan.

But no. There on the desk was a very ornate, and very old fashioned, actual key. The kind of key that you put in a lock, turn it, something clicks and it opens. Not the kind of key that guards the door to times worst criminals.

She didn’t have the luxury of pondering it further. Grabbing the key, she motioned to Sara and they both moved off down the hallway.

***

The cells lining either side of the long corridor appeared mostly empty. The fronts of each cell were made entirely of glass, or some substance similar. Privacy apparently not being a thing that was valued here.

She kept her pace steady and vision straight ahead. Avoiding the temptation to peer too closely into any of the cells. They were here for one reason and one reason only. She didn't need to open up any unwanted cans of worms by letting her curiosity get the better of her.

Ava saw from the corner of her eye that her companion clearly did not have the same compunction about it that she did.

She vaguely imagined what she might find if she were to chance a look. Monsters and aliens? Maybe someone she knew... a family member? Sara? Herself?

She shuddered at the thought, despite knowing the impossibility of finding either one of them locked up down here. For various but actually quite logical reasons, time between the bureau and the prison was tethered to a constant rate. If she went back to last week and tried to visit again, she would arrive here exactly a week ago. And if tomorrow at the bureau she was arrested for this very crime they were now committing, she would not appear here until tomorrow - prison time.

It was a complicated theory she had long ago decided was best not to try too hard to understand, as was the case with so much of the ins and outs of time travel. Essentially, it was a concept put in place to avoid corruption. To avoid people being able to come back and break themselves out. To ensure that the person could be imprisoned for a quantifiable amount of time. Human rights still applied here after all. And that’s why Ava's timings had to have been perfect this afternoon. No second chances to get it right.

 

15:33

This was it. Rip Hunter's cell.

She glanced at Sara, but the other women was already staring intently into the glass fronted room; a myriad of emotions swirling in her eyes. Ava thought she could spend hours trying to pinpoint each one and still come up short.

She tore her eyes away, suddenly nervous again. The air seemed thick with tension. She swallowed, reaching out to fit the key into the lock.

The light was bright inside the cell. Too bright. Unnatural. The kind of lighting they have in a dental surgery just to make you anxious. Ava had to blink a couple of times to adjust.

It was sparsely furnished. A table and couple of uncomfortable looking chairs, anchored to the floor. A single bed in one corner, grey blanket folded to precision on top. Pristine to the point it looked as though it had never been slept in. Anchored high on one wall within its brackets was a TV screen of some description, currently blank and lifeless. A singular shelf with a few books and personal items on top. The only reminders that a past life had ever been lived. The only remnants to show for it. Ava had to push down the sudden melancholy that washed over her at the sight.

Then, at the far side of the room, sat Rip Hunter. Rip, with his head turned away from them, facing what was evidently supposed to pass for a window, differing scenes fading in and out of focus. Rigid in his seat.

Next to her, Sara held her breath. Both of them were completely still, as if they were themselves frozen in time.

For a moment it appeared as though Rip hadn’t noticed their presence. Time seemed to move leisurely at its own pace.

And then eventually,

“I was wondering how long it would take you to finally show up, Miss Lance.”

His voice was harsh and laced with bitterness, head still turned away from them. Still staring at the nothingness out of the window.

“Rip...” Sara breathed. Her voice brittle like a thin reed of grass.

For a moment Rip didn’t move. Then suddenly, so quickly as to give himself whiplash, he spun his head to face them.

Ava took an involuntary breath as he did so. He looked gaunt. His head had been shaved into a buzz cut and the lack of hair accentuated the harsh lines of his face. It was his eyes that were the worst. They seemed too bright and too wide. Haunting and hollow. They were the eyes of a madman. They flicked briefly to Ava but settled on Sara. Staring intently without blinking. He didn’t seem to be able to quite meet her eye.

“Well come in, take a seat. No need to stand on ceremony.” He gestured wildly to the chairs at the table. His voice a pitch too high, almost hysterical.

“I don’t exactly receive many visitors here. As you can well imagine.”

Neither of them moved. Still held in whatever spell had been cast over them. She saw Sara dig her nails in to the palm of her hand as she made a fist.

“Oh I’m _sorry_ , are the furnishings not to your standards?” His voice was so hard. Rip, and yet something else. Something harsh and cruel.

“Rip...” Sara tried again, her voice cracking, “I’m so sorry Rip.”

“Oh you’re sorry are you, Miss Lance? You’re sorry? Just what exactly did you think would happen, I wonder, when you handed me over to the Time Bureau?”

Sara stood taut, gripping her fists ever harder as she struggled to control the emotions Ava knew were warring just beneath the surface. She had the urge to reach out to the woman, to try and provide her with some small measure of comfort.

“Well it wasn’t exactly going to be a tea party now, was it?” He continued, derisive and cold.

“I get it Rip, you’re angry with me...”

“ _Angry_? Why would I be angry? Oh yes. The greatest threat time has ever faced, the threat that you are responsible for unleashing - might I add, is being allowed to grow stronger every day, while I am locked away like some criminal, by the very organisation I created to prevent just such a thing from happening... Oh believe me when I say, I am far from angry.”

Rip had got up from his chair, and advanced towards them. His movements were imprecise and jerky, as though through disuse he had forgotten how to control his limbs. As he spoke he wrung his hands next to him, as if through the motion he could convey his frustration.

“I didn’t know...” Sara's voice was quiet; desperate. As if she were imploring him to understand. “I didn’t think that this...”

“Ah!” Rip exclaimed, cutting her off. “And therein lies the problem...You didn’t think.

“You never learn, do you? Always jumping in with both feet, before you’ve even thought about what it is you're doing or who you might be hurting. Recklessly running about time without any regard for the consequences of your actions... of course you never stopped to think about what exactly you were condemning me to.”

His voice was high, raving, as the words spilled out from his mouth. The words designed to pierce and cut. Small droplets of spittle clung to his lips from where they had been thrown out with the force of his words. He seemed not to notice them.

At her side, Ava saw Sara visibly harden. Saw the walls go up around her as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. When she spoke, there was no hint of the doubt or shame that had previously been there.

“That's not fair Rip, and you know it. Everything I've done is for the good of the team! And to try to save reality.”

He laughed. An unnerving screech of a sound, entirely devoid of humour. It ceased as abruptly as it had started.

“Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night Sara? You’re many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. Don’t try to pretend you acted out of anything other than spite.” He spat the words. His voice was low but there was no mistaking the anger and pain.

“You betrayed me! _Again_.” She slammed her hand down hard on the table, matching his aggression.

“Betray you! I didn’t betray you Sara! Did you know, that every decision I ever made was for _you_.”

“Listen to yourself, Rip, you’re not even making sense. You’re insane.” Emotion had crept back into Sara's voice now.

“Oh, quite, I’m sure... I’m sure that I’m the only one who could see the very real threat that Mallus poses to all of us. But would any of you listen to me? Of course you wouldn’t listen. Why would you do anything other than what you damn well please?”

Ava stood to one side, forgotten, watching the two face off against each other. A lone spectator to this macabre performance.

“ENOUGH.” She commanded. Her voice steadier than she would have expected.

Rip looked at her for the first time. As though only just realising she was there. His gaze on her almost made Ava take an involuntary step back.

“Mr Hunter you are in here because you broke the rules, regardless of the reason why. You were aware of the consequences of your actions, should you get caught. The blame for that lies at your own doorstep, not with Sara.”

His eyes peaked with interest at the use of Sara's first name. The familiarity it implied.

“Agent Sharpe. I am at least surprised to see you here. I thought out of everyone, you would be the last person to be aiding and abetting a Legend. Although I am well aware as to how compelling Miss Lance can be when she puts her mind to it.” Rip’s demeanour had changed. His words could have been mistaken for pleasant or conversational.

“Actually, it was Agent Sharpe's idea to come here.” Sara's voice was neutral, unaffected. Her eyes hard.

A look of surprise overtook Rip's features, mellowing them ever so slightly. Something about him gave Ava the impression of disappointment.

“Indeed. Well I suppose that brings us to the real question then, doesn’t it. That being why you decided to pay me this surprise visit in the first place.”

He took one of the seats at the table. Sara glanced at Ava, questioning. Just for a moment something softer appeared in her eyes, and then it was gone, as if it had been a figment of Ava's imagination.

She gestured for Sara to take the remaining seat across from Hunter. She preferred to stand anyway.

“I imagine I'm safe to assume it has something to do with Mallus.” Rip began.

“Yes. As much as it pains me to admit it... but we need your help to defeat him.” Sara conceded, momentarily closing her eyes.

“Oh! So you have decided to believe me now have you? And what, pray tell, was the cause of this sudden turn around?”

“It's not that I didn’t believe you before, Rip.” Sara responded, a hint of annoyance colouring her tone. “But yeah, now that I met the guy; really not a fan.”

“What do you mean ‘now that you’ve met...’? You can’t mean to tell me that you have actually met Mallus? _Mallus_.” He repeated the word in emphasis, disbelief written clear across his face.

“Sure.” Sara's tone was too light, falsely cheery. “Got sucked into his hell dimension, chatted, had some tea. Didn’t take to the guy, and so I left.” She leant back in her chair, projecting an air of nonchalance that Ava couldn’t believe she genuinely felt.

“Good _God_ Sara!” Rip exclaimed, rising to his feet and leaning over across the table. “Can you not take anything seriously?”

Ava had to agree with the man on that point at least. But there was something in Rips face, something besides the rage and the madness. Fear. A terror that for a moment eclipsed everything else. Upon seeing it, Ava felt herself go cold.

“Jesus Sara!” He exclaimed again, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how lucky you were to escape with your life? With your soul?

“How did you even end up there in the first place? Wait. Never mind, I really don’t want to know.”

He slumped back down into his seat. All the energy suddenly seeming to have left him. He was still looking at Sara intently with those big haunted eyes, as if he couldn’t bare to look away for even a second.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal, okay. It happened; I got out. It’s done.”

“ _Not that big of a deal_.” Hunter repeated, his voice raised incredulously. “No, only that the most evil being in the whole of history now knows who you are. Knows your name.”

He sighed, a deep world weary sigh as he continued to look at the blonde Captain sadly.

“Well he knows who you are too. Does that not scare you?”

“Yes it does, Sara. And that was an unavoidable but acceptable risk. He was never supposed to know about the rest of you, especially...” He trailed off, unwilling to finish his train of thought. “And that scares me more than anything...”

They were sat looking at each other, the former and current Captain’s of the Waverider. A tiny frown was playing across Sara's face as Rip continued to stare intently at her.

Ava shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly feeling like she was intruding on something very private. The gears were shifting in her head, pieces of a puzzle coming into sudden sharp relief. The lead balloon that seemed to have been growing in the pit of her stomach since they arrived solidified, and a wave of nausea washed over her.

A heavy silence had descended on the room. Ava took a deep breath in and swallowed her feelings down with it. Now really was not the time to dwell on her suspicions about the pair in front of her. There would be time enough for that later. She could add it to the growing list of things that would be keeping her up that night.

She looked at her watch.

 

15:43

Their time here was growing short, and she didn’t want to waste any more of it on pointless arguments and recriminations.

She cleared her throat and the other occupants of the room both looked up at her.

“Does that mean you'll help us sir?” She said out of habit.

“I suppose it does, Agent Sharpe. Now. I assume you have some sort of a plan...?”

***

He listened with rapt attention as they told him the ins and outs of the plan they had concocted. His face was serious when they finished, frown lines creasing his forehead as he considered every detail.

“You are aware, I take it, that the moment you take Nora, Darhk will scour the timeline for a way to get back at you. No one will be safe. And once he has somebody; a loved one, a family member, then he will once again hold all the power. He may go after your parents, kill one of them to stop you ever being born. The repercussions will be far reaching.”

He looked from Sara to Ava appraisingly. As if trying to measure them up to see if they still had the courage to see it through.

“But...The timeline.” Ava stuttered “Surely even Darhk wouldn’t be so rash as to risk altering history?”

“I'm afraid there is no telling the lengths he may go to, Ms Sharpe.”

“So you think it’s a bad plan?” Sara questioned him.

“I didn’t say that.” He looked at her, a grin beginning to form on his face. “...Remember the Pilgrim Sara?”

She nodded, a smile of understanding drawing her lips up.

“Take them all there before you do anything. They should be safe with her.”

Ava looked between them in confusion, feeling left out of this secret language of theirs despite herself. She opened her mouth to ask, but Sara forestalled her,

“I’ll explain later.” She said, but her voice was soft, and she gave a small smile at the end of her words that somehow managed to warm Ava’s cold insides.

“And what about Mallus? Can you tell us anything about him that may be of use to defeat him?” Ava asked instead.

“Ah yes, you see that is the real problem. Even with the last five years of my life dedicated to researching and tracking Mallus, I still really know very little about him. Or _It_ , I should more accurately say.

“You see Mallus isn’t a person, not in the physical sense of the word. At least not in our realm. It’s more of a... maleficence, a coalescing of evil, an evil spirit, if you will.”

“That actually makes sense. When I was in the other dimension, it was like I could sense him all around me, he was everywhere, like a feeling. And then it was like, all at once, it all came together, and I could feel his presence, as if he was right there, reaching out for me...” She couldn’t suppress a shudder as she spoke; or forgot to try to.

Rip looked alarmed again. “Tell me he didn’t manage to touch you Sara?” Urgency laced his words.

“No. At least, I don’t think so. Ava managed to pull me out right before he made contact.”

Her words once again managed to catch Rip off guard, and he turned sharply to look up at Ava. It wasn’t Rip that she was paying attention to however. It was the way Sara was also looking up at her, with fondness and gratitude, and perhaps something else there too. Something Ava was scared to put a name to.

She felt something flutter in her chest, and the sense of pride and relief she had experienced at the time washed over her anew.

This time, when Rip cleared his throat, it was him that Ava felt was intruding on the moment.

She dragged her eyes away from Sara and looked back at him. The expression of worry hadn’t entirely dissipated from his face.

“Anyway, to return to my point. Mallus has been trapped in another dimension, a void between worlds, for millennia. Despite that, he is still able to seep through the cracks, so to speak, and exert his influence on our world. Luckily, his power here is limited. He mainly works through possession. Either through outright possession, as he was able to do to Nora, or more insidiously. A whisper in someone’s ear. A voice in the back of the mind. Cultivating the darkness within. Some of the most evil acts in history have been down to Mallus.

“As we have also witnessed, he has the ability to bring people back from the dead. And the reanimated, he can possess with ease. Look back through history, and you can see Mallus’ stamp all over it. Most urban legends have their roots in the atrocities Mallus has caused. Vampires, for example. Mallus is particularly fond of vampires. But there are many other examples. In fact anywhere there are multiple accounts of people rising from the dead. Zombies, witches, ghouls, even more modern myths, such as the slenderman can usually be traced in some way back to Mallus.

“His eventual aim is to break through into this world entirely. To be free of his prison once and for all. And the more people he is able to possess in our world, and the stronger the people who he is able to influence, the closer he comes to achieving his goal. Some people believe that 2000 years ago he was very close to breaking through, in a form particularly well known, that being the devil. It took the selfless sacrifice of one man to drive him back.

I believe that this is the closest he has ever been to achieving his goal. The combination of the timeline being in such disarray, and the strength of his servants. His cult is ever growing, and now with the help of Darhk and Nora, I’m afraid it is only a matter of time...”

Rip’s voice faltered as he finished speaking. Ava supposed he hadn’t had cause to use it this much in months. Sara sat still in her chair, all but her fingers, which were tapping away a thoughtful rhythm against the table top. All of them were quiet for a moment, mulling over everything that had just been said.

Sara was the first one to break the silence.

“I guess it’s a good thing we're bringing Darhk over to our side then.”

“Yes, I suppose it is, Miss Lance.”

 

15:53

“We don’t have much more time, Sara” Ava reminded, checking her watch. “A few more minutes at most.

“Do you have any idea how Mallus can be defeated?” She asked of Rip.

“Sadly, ideas and theories are all I have Agent, nothing concrete by any means. Exterminating all his followers in one fell swoop, whilst simultaneously fixing the entire timeline might be one way, though not particularly realistic.

“There is something I had been researching, before my incarceration.” He narrowed his eyes at Sara but continued on nonetheless, evidently feeling the pressing of time as keenly as the women were. “If we were somehow able to force Mallus to focus all of his being on one person, through coercion or trickery, or some other means, there may be a way we could trap him, isolate him from his other followers. It may then be possible to perform some kind of exorcism, or vanquish him while he is inside that one person.

“We would need a master of the occult. Someone with knowledge that far surpasses mine.”

“Isn’t Darhk supposed to fit that bill?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to trust Darhk to that extent no matter how firmly you believe yourself to have control over him.”

“John Constantine.” Sara said, her voice grave, and Ava thought she detected a slight note of trepidation.

“Ah yes, the man who restored your soul. History remembers him as a true master indeed.”

“Yeah, and it’s not just restoring souls, he’s pretty good with the exorcisms too. And after the other day, he definitely owes me one now.”

Ava frowned, confused. She didn't recall Sara mentioning any recent cases of exorcisms or the occult. She had hoped they had reached the point by now where she would have told her, or would even have asked for her help again if it had gone sideways.

“Sara?” She asked before she could think better of it.

“Yeah, he wanted my help with something. He snuck onto the Waverider a couple of weeks back, the same night Jax left...”

“...Mr Jackson has left the Legends?” Rip exclaimed in surprise.

Shit. He didn’t know.

Sara was looking at him with that same horrified realisation.

“Rip...” She began, but was cut off by the beeping of Ava's alarm on her watch.

 

15:57

She had set it so they didn’t lose track of time. It gave them only a few minutes to get the hell out of there without being caught.

“Sara...” She warned, shifting her stance.

But Sara wasn’t paying her any attention. She was still looking at Rip. Grief heavy on her features. Looking at him with eyes that knew she was about to shatter him.

“Sara... What is it?” He demanded. There was an undercurrent of something in his voice. Fear and resignation.

“It's...” Sara's voice cracked. She strengthened her resolve. “It’s Martin. He's dead.”

“No...” He gave a short laugh. “No... that’s not possible.” He looked between the two women. Pleading. Refusing to accept the truth.

“ _No_.” He repeated again, shaking his head, but there was anguish written across his face as neither of them were able to offer him the denial he was so desperately asking for.

“Sara. We need to go.” She hated herself a little bit even as her voice stayed firm. Hated herself for dragging Sara away. Hated herself for leaving Rip like this. She didn't have a choice.

“Now, Sara.”

The other woman finally looked at her, comprehension on her face. There were unshed tears in her eyes.

“I'm sorry, Rip...” She breathed, pushing herself up from the table.

Rip reached out to her, as if to catch her arm. Perhaps wishing to stop her from leaving. But at the last minute he seemed to change his mind, and instead his hand came to rest over the same patch of table her own hands had occupied only seconds before. His eyes were lost again, staring at nothing, his fingers clenching minutely on the table top.

Ava was already outside the cell. Sara gave one final look to her old friend, and then turned to leave as well.

“Wait...” Rip’s voice sounded out, unnaturally loud in the silence of the cell. “Wait.”

He got up and crossed the room to his shelf. Ava's heart pounded in her chest as the seconds ticked by. When he turned back to Sara he had an old leather-bound notebook in his hand.

“Here, I want you to have this. It may be able to provide you with some assistance.”

He handed it to her, and as she took it their fingers ghosted together.

“Thank you.” Sara swallowed.

“Be careful Sara. Please.”

And then she was out of his cell and Ava's fingers were fumbling with the key. The glass wall glimmered back into place. The silhouette of the man inside left behind.

 

15:59

They didn’t linger. They had already stayed too long. Time was against them and the guard would return at any moment.

There was no time to worry about stealth as they hurtled toward the exit. The corridor seeming to stretch out ahead of them, impossibly long. Every stride a second too slow. At her side Sara was keeping pace. Together their heels clipping loudly against the slick floor in a frantic staccato rhythm. To Ava it seemed that it echoed the thousand thoughts thrumming through her mind.

And then suddenly, they were back at the reception, skidding to a halt. It was still deserted.

Somewhere nearby a door banged shut, and there was the unmistakable sound of footsteps shuffling along. Unhurried, but growing louder. Ava cursed under her breath and threw the key back onto the desk, sprinting round the corner hot on the heels of her blonde companion.

***

They slowed their pace but didn’t stop until they were back on the subway platform. Both women were breathing heavily, a mixture of the exertion and adrenaline coursing through their systems.

Ava bent over, palms resting on her knees, gathering her composure. When she stood up again, she found Sara leaning against the wall.

Sara's posture was tense. Her head was back and her eyes were closed. She took several deep steady breaths in and out, trying to calm herself, or perhaps to prevent a bout of vomiting. Her face, where before Ava had admired the touch of colour that she had acquired, was now very pale. At her sides, her hands were balled up into fists, Ava once again noticing how her nails dug painfully into her injured palm.

The urge to stop her doing it was almost overwhelming. To shout at her and ask her why it was that important to push her feelings down, why she felt the need to cause herself physical pain in order to do so.

She finally looked up but didn’t meet Ava’s eye. Ava could see the self doubt and recriminations written across her face. She opened her mouth to ask if Sara was okay, but her words were anticipated.

“Can we just get out of here, Ava. _Please_.”

When the carriage arrived, this time they both sat down without argument. Sara didn’t show any further interest in conversation, and Ava followed her lead. Consequently the silence around them was heavy.

They arrived back at the Time Bureau with an equally as vicious jolt as they had felt on departing. Ava made a move to get up as the doors opened, but paused when she realised that her companion didn’t show any sign of doing the same. Ava settled herself back down, waiting.

Minutes ticked by and still Sara sat there, taking her slow, measured breaths in and out. Ava began to wonder if she would say anything at all, while fervently hoping that no one else had any designs on using this transporter in the near future.

Eventually, when she did speak, her voice sounded very small. Not anything like Sara Lance at all.

“What I did...” she swallowed hard. “I was wrong. I should never have just given him up like that.”

“Sara, Hunter was out of control. You did the right thing. And besides, whether or not you made the call wouldn’t have changed anything. It was only a matter of time before we caught up with him.”

Ava injected her words with as much conviction as she could. She could see the woman across from her considering them and weighing them up. Dismissing them. Ava sighed despite herself. Sara finally met her eye.

“I don't know about you, but I could really use a drink. Do you wanna, maybe, go some place? We can talk. Try and figure all this out.” Sara asked, her voice at least sounding somewhat more normal. Trying for an air of casual indifference. Despite that Ava still saw the hopeful look she was trying so hard to disguise.

She had planned to go back to the bureau, having gone AWOL more than enough lately. She had paperwork she had been neglecting. There were mission reports to look over. Future missions to plan. If she wasn't careful somebody would start getting suspicious that something was up; and that's if they hadn’t already.

But as she looked at Sara, as their eyes met and she felt herself getting drawn deeper and deeper; she already knew that wasn't what she was going to do.


	2. Will you do the Fandango? (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava and Sara in a bar. Having a drink together...
> 
> Fluff, and feelings, and of course, angst ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. 
> 
> Here is the second chapter of episode 2. I've actually had to split it up into 2 parts to make it more manageable cos it just got so damn long! This is part 1 but part 2 will be coming right up cos it's all done.
> 
> This was meant to be all fluffy and full of Feelings, but apparently I can't do that, so on that note...
> 
> SOME WARNINGS.  
> This only applies to part 2 but I'm writing them here now to be on the safe side.  
> There is a reference to implied domestic abuse, and also the use of a homophobic slur. Also some semi-graphic violence.  
> They are only a minor part of the story, but they are in there so...
> 
> Once again a big thank you to everyone who read, left kudos and especially to the people who took the time to review the previous chapter as well as the first story. 
> 
> Hope you guys all enjoy this part...

In the end, Ava returns to the office.

There’s a bar a couple of streets away, one she once had to duck into on her way to work to use the facilities. It’s the kind of dingy place which wouldn’t attract any of the bureau crowd. The kind of place which she herself had hoped never to set foot in again.

Its the kind of place that Sara Lance would probably feel right at home in. And so she sends the timeship Captain there, with the promise that she will join her as soon as she can. It’s a compromise, of sorts. One which allows her to increase her prospects of not getting fired, whilst at the same time satisfies her increasing craving to spend time with the other woman.

She knows she is playing with fire. She knows she will get burnt. The thought scares her, but not enough for her to change her mind. Not nearly enough.

And so she heads back to the bureau, shows her face. Potters around. She tries to convince herself that it’s necessary to be there. She tries not to think about Rip and his haunted eyes, or the way he looked at Sara. Most of all she tries to pretend that she’s thinking of anything other than how Sara's waiting for her in some bar down the street.

She hopes Sara isn’t getting too drunk. After the other night she would have assumed she might try to pace herself. But then, she had seen the look in Sara’s eyes at the subway. The one that told Ava that Sara was trying to lock her feelings away somewhere, despite what she had promised the other day.

In the end she doesn’t stay at work anywhere near as long as she had intended.

Before she leaves she takes her hair down, brushes it out. Wishes that there wasn’t so much of it, or that she was the kind of woman to keep product in her desk draw, rather than a bottle of scotch and a copy of the ‘Time Bureau Agent’s Handbook’. She tries to touch up her make-up and dabs some scent onto her neck.

When she's finished she appraises herself critically in the mirror. There are butterflies that she can feel dancing away in her stomach and she tries to push them down; tries to remember the promise she made to herself only today, the one about not acting like a teenage girl. She can’t remember the last time she made an effort for someone like this. Certainly not for someone that might actually mean something to her. She wonders when she started to become so okay with the fact that that person was Sara Lance.

***

When she arrives, the bar is every bit as grungy as she remembers. There are a couple of tables occupied, a rowdy bunch near the door, calling and gesturing up at some sport being played out on the TV screen above their heads. The table is slick with beer, slopped carelessly from the top of smeared glasses. She feels the eyes of a few of them staring at her as she passes them by, giving the table as wide a birth as she can without drawing attention to the fact. Ignores the inevitable cat-calls and propositions that are thrown her way.

There are a few solitary individuals sat up at the bar, heads down over their drinks. Eyes glazed. Each seemingly wrapped up in whatever personal misfortune life had thrown at them to bring them to this particular establishment in the first place.

She stops and orders herself a coffee. The look the barman gives her tells her no one comes in here for coffee. He shuffles over to a rusted machine that clunks with disuse when he switches it on.

It’s easy for her to locate the woman she came to meet. Sara seems to stand out through the gloom of the place like a beacon, sat in one of the booths at the very back of the bar, where she is easily able to observe the entire room and to respond to a threat at a moments notice, should such a need arise. Unable to ignore her years as both assassin and vigilante. Ava would have chosen the same spot.

It made her think of her own training. How Rip had chosen to have them learn a particular brand of fighting technique, a set of martial arts which seemed far too advanced for anything she would need for her work with the bureau. She, as always, had demanded perfection from herself. Rip had noticed and pushed her even harder without ever explaining his reasons for doing so, or for his sudden interest. Over time, Ava had realised that she enjoyed the sport, the grace and power with which she were able to use her limbs. She had never felt particularly graceful or powerful before. It was only later that she had made the discovery that the training was much the same as that given to apprentices in the league of assassins. At the time the connection hadn’t felt important. It did now.

The barman hands over the steaming mug of coffee. She utters a muttered thank you and steps away.

She pauses before she reaches the booth. Sara is sat nursing a bottle of beer, elbows resting on the table as she distractedly peels at the label. At some stage she must have taken her blouse off, and she now sports just a tight white tank top underneath the dark blue blazer. It's a good look on her actually.

Ava allows herself a moment to observe the woman as she sits there. The way her golden hair falls down about her face. Her lips that seem unable to resist forming into that sexy pout, even without anyone around to see. She appears lost in thought. She also appears sober, Ava notices with some relief.

Even as Ava stands there she notices the change in Sara's demeanour. The smile that plays at the corners of her mouth. How she sits herself slightly more upright, and how she manages to shift her position just so that her chest pushes out and Ava gets the perfect view of her full cleavage.

Ava's breath catches in her throat. And then she internally rolls her eyes. Of course - she's been made. She can’t help the small smile that reaches her lips at the other woman’s antics.

She makes her way over to the table, and Sara looks up at her.

“Hi...” Ava says softly, suddenly shy as she bobs her head.

“Hi.” Sara greets her back, smiling. “You came back.”

It was an unnecessary statement really, but there was something in the way she said it, voice low and almost insecure - almost, that tells Ava the woman hadn’t been entirely sure that she would.

It feels like they have been here before. _Well you needed me flashes through her head_.

“I said I would.” She says instead.

She takes a seat at the booth, suddenly feeling awkward stood hovering over the Captain. The cracked red leather of the bench is cool against her skin as she slides in.

Alongside Sara's half empty beer, the table houses a couple of tumblers containing some dirty brown liquid that she imagines is supposed to be whiskey. She eyes them suspiciously before placing her own drink down next to them. The table feels sticky under her hand. She grimaces and resists the urge to get the sanitizer out of her bag.

For a moment they just sit there. Now she's here, Ava can’t think of anything to say, her mind blank. She remembers that _this_ is why she doesn’t normally do anything like this. She feels her palms start to sweat, and she curls and uncurls them round her coffee cup, just for something to do. Sara is watching her and so she stops.

“Eww, is that...a coffee?” Sara asks with distaste colouring her tone, peering over the side of the mug. “I got you this...” She slides one of the tumblers over towards Ava, “Thought you might want a real drink... you know, after...”

She stops, clears her throat. Takes a breath.

“...After having to go back to the bureau.” She pulls an exaggerated face of disgust. “Eugh!”

Ava almost goes on the defensive. But there's a smile to Sara's voice, and a glimmer in her eye. And Ava has been around Sara enough to know a distraction technique when she sees one. She lets it go.

“Ha. Ha.” She responds, “And yes, it is a coffee, and yes, I would rather have something strong, but technically I'm still on the clock,” she checks her watch, “...for another hour. I could get called in, if something important comes up, and I don’t want to have to explain myself for smelling like a brewery if it does.”

“Jeez Ava, you're such a goody-goody.” Sara teases her playfully. “Nobody actually expects you to be sober at work.”

“Actually, nobody expects _you_ to be sober at work. The rest of us out there, who have employers and contracts, and actually get paid... we have something called rules, you might not have heard of the concept, but we are expected to try and obey them.” Ava deadpans back without missing a beat.

Sara laughs.

The sound stirs something inside Ava. Makes her want to smile. She realises that she hasn’t really heard Sara laugh all that much, if at all. She grins, and smirks and sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get a honest-to-god smile, but genuine outright laughter – not so much. She immediately decides she wants to hear it more often. Decides she wants to be the cause of it.

“Sounds boring. But fine, you win. Have your coffee.” She holds her hands up in surrender. Ava wants to mention that she was always planning to, even without Sara’s permission.

Ava feels herself beginning to relax at the playful banter between the two of them. At how natural all this feels. At how Sara seems to be able to put her at ease without even trying. She has to remind herself that this isn’t actually a date.

“You know...” Sara is saying conspiratorially, but with a note of melancholy entering her voice, “the first ever mission I did with the Legends I got stoned.” She gave a small laugh, “With Martin Stein, of all people! Well a young Martin anyway...

“And you think I don’t take anything seriously now!” Sara winks at her, taking a long sip of her beer.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Ava replies, shaking her head. “No wonder Hunter decided to create the Time Bureau!”

“Hey!” Sara exclaims, her famous pout on her lips, “Rip created the Time Bureau because I broke time, not ‘cos I kept getting stoned!”

Its Ava's turn to laugh out loud at the faux look of indignation on the Captain's face.

A sudden impulse has Ava leaning across the table and grabbing Sara’s beer. Still leant forward, she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a leisurely pull from it. It tastes like shit. It’s worth it though, for the look on Sara’s face. The look that says she's caught the Captain by surprise. That she's impressed. The look that's saying she wants her lips to be in the place of that bottle right now. Or maybe that’s just what Ava hopes she's thinking.

She slides the drink back across to her companion, taking a leaf out of Sara’s book and giving her a full blown smirk.

“I can have my rebellious moments too.”

Sara just looks at her, eyebrow raised sceptically.

They descend into an easy silence. Ava drinks her coffee; it's bad, but not as bad as she was expecting. Sara takes a sip of her whiskey; grimaces. Knocks back a good swig of her awful beer to chase away the taste. Something about this, being here with Sara, away from work and the Waverider and responsibility, feels good. More than that, it just feels right.

She knows it can’t last. They have too much to discuss, everything that happened with Rip. Everything he told them. She lets out a sigh.

Sara looks at her sharply at the sound.

She knows before she even asks the question what Sara’s response will be.

“How are you feeling now anyway?”

It’s Sara’s turn to sigh. “I’m fine.”

Ava gives her a look. The one which says she knows she is being fed bullshit. Sara clearly doesn’t want to talk, but Ava isn’t going to let her get away with it that easily. Not after she's seen first hand the results of Sara bottling up her feelings. The bandage on her palm an unwelcome reminder.

She decides to start easy, if there is such a thing when it comes to Sara.

“Okay. So why didn’t you inform the bureau you were dealing with demon possession?”

Sara looks up at her, clearly surprised by the question.

“We... had it handled... kinda. And I didn’t think that kind of stuff was bureau territory anyway.”

Ava raises an eyebrow at that, but lets it go. She could always ask to see the mission report later anyway.

“It isn’t...” she chooses to say instead. “...normally. But that’s beside the point. I would still expect you to come to me with anything like that Sara.”

Sara gives her a look. Confusion mixed with something else.

“...Why?” She asks after a beat too long.

“Because...” Ava doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. ‘ _Because it’s dangerous. Because I care. Because I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you and I wasn't there_...’

“Because I could have helped.” She says instead, avoiding Sara's eye. “Anyway, I wasn’t aware that the Legends were in the business of vanquishing evil spirits either. Why did this...” She searches her brain for the name Sara had given earlier that afternoon...

“John. John Constantine.” Sara supplies.

“Right. Why did this John Constantine want your help?”

Sara appears uncomfortable as she fidgets in her seat. Her fingers once again occupied with scratching away at the label on her beer.

“I owed him one. Or he said I did anyway. He was the guy Laurel and the others got to fix my soul...”

Ava considers this. As difficult as the concept is, it's not new information. And it doesn't actually answer her question. Sara's hiding something. She looks at the woman across from her closely as she speaks her next words.

“That may explain why you chose to assist him. It doesn’t explain why he came to you in the first place.”

Sara shifts in her seat.

“Well maybe he just couldn’t resist my sparkling personality.” She smirks.

But by now Ava knows that flirting, and teasing, and obnoxious arrogance are all avoidance strategies Sara uses when she doesn't want to have to talk or think about a particular subject.

She waits, but Sara clearly isn’t planning on offering anything further. She starts to feel the first prickle of annoyance under her skin.

“What is it you’re not telling me Sara?” She asks, voice stern.

Long moments pass and neither woman speaks. Each staring the other down in a silent battle of wills. It’s Sara who finally concedes.

“He knew my name.” Sara’s face is hard and emotionless.

‘What?’ Ava is about to ask but is cut off as Sara continues in that hard voice she insists on using.

“The demon. He knew my name.”

***

Ava listens carefully as Sara tells her what had happened after John had come seeking her assistance.

When she finishes Ava nods her head thoughtfully, blowing air out between her teeth. For a moment she doesn’t say anything, desperately trying to get her thoughts in order before she does.

The overwhelming feeling is that of alarm, closely followed by concern and then relief. Relief that Sara, and well the rest of the Legends too if she were completely honest with herself, had made it through relatively unscathed. Annoyance was hot on the heels of the other emotions, but lets face it; it so often was. In this case, now even more annoyed that Sara hadn’t thought it worth telling her about.

“And you don’t feel even a little bit worried that this demon knew you, Sara? That it might be something to do with Mallus? Quite probably is, actually, given what we just learned from Director Hunter. What if he was trying to draw you out, to get to you in some way...?” She's aware as she speaks that she sounds too much like Rip. But she needs to make Sara see how dangerous this is.

“ _Of course_ I feel worried. I’m not an idiot Ava, I made the connection.” Sara's voice is grave, and there’s a fear there that she can’t quite disguise. Ava instantly feels guilty. “But there isn’t exactly anything I can do about it, so there’s no point me sitting around crying about it either. And besides, whatever his plan was; he failed. I’m here. I’m fine.” Sara finishes with conviction, gesturing with her hands for emphasis.

“You’re right,” Ava concedes, “But next time something like that happens...” Because it’s the Legends and of course there will be a next time, “...can you _please_ tell me about it?”

“Promise...” Sara says, a grin forming on her lips, “But hang on... Let me get this straight, did you just say that _I_ was right?”

Ava responds with an exaggerated sigh.

“ _You_ , Ava Sharpe, said that _I_ , Sara Lance, am right!”

She’s outright grinning now. The shit-eating kind, that Ava pretends to get annoyed at but really has a secret soft spot for.

“I’m going to live to regret that aren’t I?”

“Probably... hmm, think I’m gonna need something to remember this moment by...”

And then much to her displeasure Sara actually gets her phone out and takes a photo of Ava. She can only imagine what it looks like, though she is one hundred percent sure that it will come back to haunt her in the future.

As if that isn't bad enough Sara then spins her phone round and snaps a selfie of them. Obviously the perspective will be all wrong, what with Sara being far too close to the lens. But clearly that’s neither here nor there when it comes to what Sara Lance thinks is appropriate for a good photo opportunity.

She sighs again, but Sara is still smiling at her and she finds she can’t really be mad.

“Sara Lance, have I told you yet today what an absolute nightmare you are?”

“Nope...But you _have_ told me I’m right.” She winks, and Ava honestly can’t help the indulgent smile she gives her in return.

***

“So you believe you can convince this John Constantine to help us?” Ava asks a few moments later, when she remembers they are still supposed to be discussing the serious business of Mallus.

“Yep” Sara replies with confidence. “I mean, sure, John won’t normally go anywhere near Darhk, like literally the same state. But I have a secret weapon.”

She smirks and Ava raises a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m gonna have Leo ask him. The two of them got pretty...close, when we worked together, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” Ava responds, desperately trying to hold down the blush she can feel threatening to creep up her neck and stain her cheeks. “I just hope that you’re right, if what Rip says is true then he might be our best shot at defeating Mallus.”

Sara nods thoughtfully but doesn’t offer anything further on the subject.

“Okay. So what about this pilgrim woman? Do you think you can convince her to help us as well?”

For a second Sara does a double take. Chokes a little on her beer. The effect is actually quite comical.

“ _What_? No! The Pilgrim’s dead, thankfully. She was a mercenary hired by the Timemasters to get rid of us by traveling back to different points in our pasts and killing us there. We stopped her by removing ourselves from the timeline just after our births and taking them, us, to a kind of safe house. To Rips mom actually. Rips right, that’s what we’re gonna have to do again. That includes you too Ava.”

“What? Absolutely not. That's completely out of the question. Darhk doesn’t even know I exist, there’s no need to go screwing about with my past as well.”

“And how long do you think it’ll take him to work it out? If you wanna be involved in this, then it’s not up for debate.”

Sara's voice is hard and unrelenting. Its nice, in a way, to know that all this determinstion is focused on keeping Ava safe. She swallows, unable to voice the commitment out loud. Still unable to get her head around being okay with doing something that goes against _literally_ all the rules of time-travel.

Sara senses her hesitation. Her voice is soft again when she speaks.

“Its okay to be scared Ava. It’s just not okay to allow yourself to be wiped out of history because of that fear.” She reaches across the table then, and for the second time that day takes Ava’s hands in her own. Strokes her thumb soothingly over Ava’s knuckles.

“Please, Ava. You just have to trust me.”

And Ava wants to. She really does. It’s a big step. Trust isn’t something that comes easy to her. But as she sits here, in this dank and dingy bar, sipping on the dregs of a bitter coffee, she thinks that Sara might just be the right person to help her start.

She nods her head and releases the breath she didn’t realise she'd been holding. Across from her Sara does the same.

She feels a little giddy. Emotionally drained. She looks at her watch. Five to six. Near enough damn it.

She picks up the remaining tumbler and drains it in one. The liquid burning her throat as it goes down. She feels a little better even as she grimaces at the taste.

***

Sara goes to the bar. Both women in need of more to drink.

Ava leans her head back against the booth and allows her eyes to fall closed, suddenly exhausted by the days events.

She thinks of Rip again, alone in his cell. Tries to somehow equate that man to the cool and collected founder of the Time Bureau she knew him as. She can’t seem to do it.

She wonders what his relationship with the Legends, with Sara, was like before. From the way he had always talked of them, it seemed all they had done was disrespect him, and his relationship with them was one of frustration and disappointment. They may have got the job done, but they didn’t give a damn how they achieved it. She had never imagined them to actually be close.

Something she could clearly no longer pretend to be true. She could still see his eyes, the way he could barely drag them away from Sara. How it had felt as though they had forgotten she was even there. The nausea that she had felt bubbling up inside...

“Hey...”

Sara's soft voice breaks her from her thoughts as the woman puts the drink down in front of her, and Ava opens her eyes. It’s another whiskey. It seemed like the lesser of two evils, and she still yet might be glad of the strong liquor.

“What're you thinking in that brain of yours?”

Sara's voice is gentle and caring as she slides herself back into the booth. It’s a side to the woman Ava didn’t realise existed until today. Just another thing to add to the growing list of things she didn’t know about Sara Lance.

Sara, who was looking at her with soft eyes and a tender expression, and waiting for an answer.

“Just, everything.” She eventually settles on, because it’s true, and yet not the whole truth.  
Sara furrows her brows and nods her head.

“Yeah, there’s a lot to take in.”

But that’s not it. Not really. Ava brings her glass to her lips. She can see the remnants of bold red lipstick staining the rim. For once the detail doesn’t bother her. She takes a long sip. Relishes the way it burns.

“You and Hunter...” She says, before she can think better of it, “...Were you two ever...? Are you...?”

There’s a dawning realisation on Sara's face, surprise and amusement, and thankfully she cuts Ava off before she has chance to continue her awkward rambling.

“What? _Me and Rip_? Eww! No!!”

She pulls a face, like it’s genuinely the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

“It’s never been like that with us. What makes you even think that?”

Ava breathes a sigh of relief.

“Its just, today...The way you were... The way he was...It just seemed...” Ava still can’t seem to complete a sentence. It’s getting frustrating.

Luckily Sara gets her drift. Her tone becomes sombre.

“Things with me and Rip, it’s complicated. I owe him a lot. He saved me, in more ways than one... I... was supposed to die. Again. But like, permanently this time.” She stops, sighs. Ava feels the words like a punch to her gut, like she can’t breath. “Rip told me that my father and I were killed by Darhk at the same time as Laurel. By recruiting me to the Legends he stopped that from happening.”

Sara's eyes glisten with unshed tears. It’s the same look she gets every time she speaks of Laurel. A lone tear manages to make it over the brim of her eye and starts to fall, but she brushes it away harshly.

“It was more than that though.” Her voice is uneven as she continues. “When he came to me, I was a mess. I was lost, Ava. There wasn’t a place for me anymore. I didn’t feel like I belonged, _anywhere_. And then there was the bloodlust. There was this need for violence, an urge to lash out, under my skin, like, all the time. And I couldn’t control myself... It’s like I could smell the blood, like I needed to taste it, to cover myself in it. It’s like I was hungry but could never be filled up. And I _killed_ people, Ava. People who didn’t deserve to die. Because I couldn’t stop myself.”

Sara pauses again and takes a drink. Visibly tries to calm the shaking of her hands. Ava can palpably sense the self loathing and hatred. She wants to be able to take it all away, but she daren’t speak for fear of breaking the spell.

“When Rip brought me onto the team, he didn’t just give me a purpose, he gave me a home, and a family. He helped me to control the bloodlust. It was like he knew just what to do, how to help.” She shakes her head as if to clear it from the memories.

“If it wasn’t for Rip, I don’t know if I’d have survived, even without Darhk.”

It scares Ava, the implication. It scares her more than the bloodlust, or how she was once a trained assassin, or any of it actually; the implication that Sara may have been capable of taking her own life. That she's thought it through enough to mention it now.

“So, yeah, I pretty much owe Rip everything. And you’re right, he means more to me than a friend. I don’t know if there’s a word to describe that. But I don’t think of him like _that_. I’ve never felt romantically for him.”

Ava doesn’t know what to say. She's stunned by Sara's honesty. Flattered that she would think Ava worthy for her to open up to. They both sit there for a long minute. Ava still in shock, and Sara discreetly trying to rid her eyes of the tears still gathered there.

“Sara, I’m sorry.” She eventually manages, “I shouldn’t have pried. It’s honestly none of my business...” She clears her throat awkwardly. “But I’m glad that you had someone like Rip, someone who cares about you, to help you.”

Sara gives her a small smile when she looks up.

“It's okay, Ava.”

“No, it’s not. And I’m sorry about earlier too, about not telling you about the prison being located in a different time. It’s not something I even considered important information. But it was wrong of me not to inform you.”

In front of her Sara relaxes her tight posture.

“Its okay. It’s just something that means a lot to me, being able to make my own decisions... When I was part of the league, I was... expected, to follow orders without question. The things I was expected to do... without ever knowing the reason why...”

She clears her throat.

“When I left, I promised myself that I wouldn’t ever let myself be in that position again... But when I joined Rip, he did the same thing. He continuously held information back from us. He always had his own agenda and only gave us enough to ensure we followed him... I think he wanted to try and change. But there was always something more important. And every time it felt like another betrayal.”

Ava nods. She can understand that. She wants to make sure she doesn’t make the same mistake again.

“Okay, noted. My default is to keep information to myself. That’s the way the bureau works, I suppose Hunter trained us to be like him. I’m used to only telling my team what they need to know.”

“Well I’m used to telling my team the truth.”

“That isn’t always possible, Sara.”

“Maybe not with the bureau, but it _is_ for the Legends.”

Ava isn’t convinced. One day, she thinks, Sara will be in the position where she needs to keep something back from her team, for their own sakes, or the sake of the mission. Ava just hopes it doesn’t break her when the time comes. But she doesn’t want to argue about that now. Not when they’ve come so far.

“Well my apology for today still stands, and in the future I’ll do my best to tell you everything, regardless of whether I think you need to know it.”

“Okay, then thank you.” She smiles, “You know you don’t need to keep apologising. If we both start saying sorry now for everything we've said and done to each other in the past then we're gonna be here for a very long time.”

Ava shakes her head, but there’s a smile on her lips.

“True. I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to get here Sara, but I’m glad we did in the end.” She bobs her head and looks up at the woman opposite her. Her hair falls in front of her face and she feels that almost shyness creep back in.

Sara grins back at her.

“What? You're glad we made it _here_ , to this...” She gives a small laugh “... _lovely_ establishment? You been waitin’ a long time to bring me here to...” she searches the menu for the name “... free chicken Fridays, Aves? Oooh what day is it?”

“I think its called Joe's Place. And that word, they spelt it wrong, it should read salmonella. ‘Free salmonella Friday’s’.” She tries to deadpan, but can’t help the smile that gives her away.

Across from her Sara laughs.

“Sounds tasty. And for the record,” She lowers her voice, “I’m glad we made it here too.”

***

They descend into another comfortable silence. Ava allows the sounds of the bar to intrude into her thoughts. There are a few more tables occupied. Apparently people will take cheap beer over decent beer. Or maybe it’s the anonymity of the place. No one really paying attention to who you are or where you come from.

At some stage someone has put some money in the jukebox. She doubts they have any music from at least the last two decades on there. Currently it’s some old Queen song blaring out.

She feels almost contented, for the first time in a long time. Despite everything else going on, here and now, in this dive of a bar, she actually feels happy. Not the happy she convinces herself she feels at work, when she manages to sort out another anachronism without making it worse, or when she manages to get one-up on the Legends. And not the kind of happy she feels when she occasionally allows herself some downtime, when she puts on one of her feel-good films, with her cat curled up on her lap and a carton of ice cream on standby at her side. No, it's a different kind. One she isn’t used to. The kind that comes from just being in the presence of someone that makes you smile, that makes you laugh. That makes you feel like you can be yourself, and they wont judge you or leave you or make you feel bad for it. The kind of person that makes you want to get to know them better, just so you can try and make them feel as good as they are making you feel...

And she has to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes over how much of a sap she is lately.

She becomes aware that Sara is watching her. Her head is cocked slightly to one side and her lips are pursed, as if she’s considering something deeply. It makes Ava feel self conscious.

“What?” She questions with a raised eyebrow.

Sara keeps looking at her in that same, thoughtful way, but her lips curl up into a small smile.

“I was just thinking about you, Ava.” She’s closer suddenly as she leans in towards her, “You were smiling, and it just made me think, about all the things that I don’t know about you yet. About the things that you like, and don’t like. And about the things that you really like...”

It might be Ava's imagination, but she's sure Sara’s voice seems to have taken on a seductive lilt. Her eyes are intense, almost hypnotic, and she can’t seem to look away. Her mouth feels very dry. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she wonders if their intel on Sara was wrong, if the woman does in fact have meta-human abilities.

She can feel her breathing becoming deeper and her heart rate increasing. Deep in her stomach a pit of nerves has opened and her mind is blank. Sara is still watching her, and Ava scrambles for something to say. Something cool, and maybe flirty.

The lyrics of the song manage to pierce the barrier of panic shutting off her brain.

“Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?”

Shit.

“What?!” Sara laughs.

“ _What_?!” Ava echoes in outright panic. “I mean, what the hell does that even mean? What the hell is the ‘fandango’? God I hate this song!”

Sara's still laughing.

“Okay, firstly, you can’t hate Queen, it’s like the law! And this song is totally epic... And secondly,”

She slides herself out of the booth, a mischievous grin on her face. While Ava's still feeling like she wants the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“The Fandango is, is dancing like a crazy person to make yourself feel better. It’s fun, come on try it..!”

“What, no! Sara! What are you doing?”

The song reaches its guitar solo, and everyone in the bar just seems to go wild, Sara included. As Brian May sets his guitar strings alight, the Timeship Captain lights up the space next to their table. She plants her feet and gets down low with her air guitar, all the while swinging her head up and down in dizzying circles. She looks ridiculous, but she also looks like she doesn't give a damn.

“Well you asked me to, so... How bout you? Will you do the Fandango with me Ava Sharpe?”

Sara holds out her hand in invitation. For a moment Ava stays where she is. She really isn’t the type to ‘let loose’. But then, this incredible woman in front of her is offering her hand, asking Ava to dance, after having just overlooked possibly one of the most awfully embarrassing things that has ever happened to Ava, or probably anybody ever. And so Ava does the unthinkable, and hesitantly reaches her own hand out and places it in Sara’s.

At the contact Ava feels a thrill of tingles race from her hand and settle in her chest, and her heart pounds in response.

Sara's grip is light as she helps Ava slide out of the booth. She’s grinning at her like Ava's just given her everything she's ever wanted. It’s actually sort of cute, for an assassin.

She expects Sara to release her hand now she's got what she wants, but instead she keeps it firmly gripped in her own as she goes back to her head-banging.

Ava feels awkward at first. But then she's copying the woman next to her, jumping up and down and thrashing her head around violently, her hair flying everywhere. She’s sure she doesn’t have any rhythm and must look like a complete idiot, but she lets the music take her over anyway. Sara releases her hand and they both do the most terrible air guitars that she’s ever seen. She hasn’t let herself go like this for so long. It’s freeing in a way she hasn’t even realised she’s been missing.

All too soon the song comes to an end. They’re both breathing heavily, and looking dishevelled, but there’s matching grins on both their faces, and Ava gets the impression that, just maybe, Sara needed that as much as she did.

The jukebox clicks off, evidently out of coins, and it suddenly seems very quiet in the bar. They don’t slide back into their booth. Sara stands leaning against the table, drink in hand, looking casual and at ease. Ava feels awkward just standing there so she follows Sara’s lead and leans next to her, just touching at the shoulders.

“See, that was fun.” Ava's not sure if Sara's asking her or telling her, but she agrees anyway, and there’s a smug look on Sara's face. She wonders why she ever found that look so infuriating.

“So tell me, Agent Sharpe, if you’re not into Queen, then who else floats your boat?”

Sara's leaning in towards her as she speaks, and at her choice of words Ava feels a blush heating her cheeks, something the woman clearly enjoys causing, judging by the self-satisfied smirk she’s sporting. She tries to keep a clear head, after all, it’s this sort of thing that lead to Ava having to air-guitar to Bohemian Rhapsody in the first place.

As it turns out, Sara distracts herself with a new idea before Ava has chance to worry about forming a response.

“Wait, actually, don’t tell me; why don't you show me. Come on!”

There's something about a jukebox that just makes music that much more exciting, Ava thinks as they stand there under the luminous red and yellow arches, trying to pick a song. It turns out Ava was mostly right about the selection of tunes; nothing from this decade at least.

Sara has already teed up a couple of songs, Bruce Springsteen, Born to Run and Dancing in the Dark.

“God I love these ones!” She says happily.

“I have to say, I’m surprised your tastes are so... classic." Ava comments.

“Yeah well, I kinda missed out on the last decade of music, y’know. Obviously on the island, and the league didn’t exactly have it’s own record store! And then when I came back to Star City I was pretty busy with other stuff, and also, didn’t really care all that much.”

Sara glances at Ava once, but other than that her attention is directed at the jukebox in front of her, still scrolling through the songs.

Her voice is casual and indifferent as she speaks, as though she were talking about the weather, or anything vaguely normal, and not ten years of her life where she'd been presumed dead, trapped on an island, an assassin, a vigilante, actually dead, and then finally the Captain of a band of time-travelling wanna-be heroes who have both saved the world and destroyed time. It’s actually a lot to take in.

Sara continues on, unaware of Ava's train of thought.

“When I was a kid I used to like the usual stuff, Backstreet Boys, N'Sync, all of that. But then after the Gambit, whenever I got a song in my head it was always one of these old ones that dad used to make us listen to. Those were the ones that I missed, the ones that reminded me of home...” She pauses, changes tact. “... _So_ , Ava, you see anything you like?”

Ava swallows, she’s so bad at this, and Sara just seems so natural, it’s almost hard to keep up.

“I’ve seen one or two things,” she plucks up the courage to say, looking at Sara rather than the music. She blushes furiously. Something shifts in the air around them. The moment stretches on, and Ava begins to feel that nervous panic once more.

She clears her throat.

“I...er, there isn’t really any one type of music that I like. I enjoy a lot of different types. Classical...”

Sara pulls a face, “Of course you do.”

Ava gives her a disapproving look. “I also like current music...”

“Current music..!” Sara interrupts with a laugh, “That isn’t _even_ a type of music! It’s lazy music when you’re happy to just switch on the radio and see what you get. I bet you can’t even name me one person who has a song out at the moment!” She challenges with a raise of her eyebrow.

Ava just stares her down, unwilling to be beaten. All the while racking her brains to think of an acceptable answer.

“Well you, Sara Lance are completely mistaken, Pink has a song out at the moment and I, for one, happen to like it.” Ava says with a smug look of her own.

“Eh, whatever! It’s not like we can verify it to see if you’re telling the truth. Anyway, can you just pick a song already, there’s gotta be something on here that you like.”

Ava almost points out that, yes, actually, they could very easily verify that she’s right. She settles for an annoyed huff instead. They both know Sara's full of shit. And now Sara’s got that irritating grin on her face like she’s just won something.

But she does as instructed and dutifully scrolls through the apparently endless reams of songs. Unexpectedly a name jumps out at her. She turns to look at Sara, questioningly.

“How about this one?”

Sara looks at it, then nods her head, approval gracing her features.

“You like Bowie?”

“I think the question is, ‘Who doesn’t like Bowie.”

Sara’s outright grinning now.

“Well then, I think there’s hope for you yet, Agent Sharpe!”

Sara picks a few more songs and they head back over to their booth. Once again they both choose to prop themselves up against the table rather than slide themselves in. Ava is content to sip her whiskey and listen to the music. Sara actually hasn’t made bad choices. Not that she'll be admitting that to Sara any time soon.

She can see Sara surreptitiously glancing about the bar. Observing the other patrons. Silently making a mental note of anyone that looks like trouble. The table by the door must be on Sara's radar by now. They’ve been getting steadily more drunk and rowdy all evening. She's sure the other woman’s been doing it all night, but it’s the first time Ava herself has noticed. It’s a gentle reminder that they’re not ordinary people. That they don’t live ordinary lives.

A soft nudge to her side brings Ava out of her thoughts. She becomes aware that the track has clicked over and David Bowie’s dulcet tones are now echoing out around the bar.

“Dance with me?” Sara asks her softly, her eyes deep and inviting, as she offers Ava her hand for the second time that evening.

Ava knows she ought to decline the invitation. She’s aware they’re stepping into dangerous territory. She has no excuses: she isn’t under the influence of alcohol, well, much anyway; she’s not suffering the after effects of a nasty blow to the head, she isn’t undercover on some mission and having to fake it. Her rational mind screams at her to back away, to run.

Of course she ignores it. For some reason she actually wants to dance with Sara Lance. Wants to be closer to her, and the thought of that stopped scaring her some time around the doing of the Fandango. Now, well now she can’t really think of anything other than taking the woman’s hand and allowing herself to be pulled closer.

Of course it’s not really a song to dance to. Not normally. But that doesn’t stop them.

Sara puts one hand on Ava’s waist, gentle but firm. Almost possessive, but Ava’s sure that the second she tried to move away the grip would instantly dissipate. She’s not sure how she knows this so intuitively. After all, it was less than a week ago since she had feared Sara wasn't going to take no for an answer. But that wasn’t Sara, at least not the Sara she has come to know, to trust. And besides, everything's changed since then.

They are moving slowly, not so much in time with the music, but in time with each other. Everything seems to fade away, until there’s only Sara and herself, and David Bowie crooning about his Starman.

 _There's a starman waiting in the sky_  
_He'd like to come and meet us_  
_But he thinks he'd blow our minds_

Ava can feel Sara’s breath where it lightly tickles her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She can smell the scent of coconut in her hair. She brings her own hand to rest on Sara’s shoulder, and Sara draws them closer.

There is barely any space between them now. As they gently move to the music Ava feels Sara’s breasts pressing into hers. She feels the intake of breath when her own thigh accidentally grinds up against Sara’s core. Feels her own body respond in a way that’s just instinctive.

Ava's hand moves of its own accord and comes to rest at Sara's hip. She creates just the smallest bit of space between them, and their eyes meet.

Ava feels like she’s being pulled in. There’s a magnetism there. Some inevitable force.

 _There's a starman waiting in the sky_  
_He's told us not to blow it_  
_Cause he knows it's all worthwhile_

“I could get used to this.” She whispers, the words she didn’t even realise she was thinking slipping from her mouth.

But then, because it’s all feeling too perfect, everything has to change...

 

 


	3. Will you do the Fandango? (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards with part 2... remember the warnings

_“I could get used to this.” She whispers, the words she didn’t even realise she was thinking slipping from her mouth._

_But then, because it’s feeling too perfect, everything has to change._

She feels the tell-tale shift in Sara's posture. The minute tightening of the muscles at her shoulders. They’re still together, still moving to the music, but Sara suddenly feels awkward, her movements slightly less fluid, slightly more forced.

The feeling takes root in Ava, and she pulls away, eying her dance partner questioningly. Sara's eyes aren’t quite focused, and Ava thinks she can detect the first traces of panic hiding in their deep blue depths.

She doesn’t get the chance to confirm her suspicions, or to ask for answers. There comes the sound of slurred voices jeering drunkenly and the scrape of several chairs across the floor. A couple of voices raised above the others, loudly and intrusively, a female voice, firm but increasingly scared, and that of a man, angry and abusive.

 _“I don’t think so, bitch. I think you’ll do what I tell you_.”

Ava looks up. It’s the rowdy table by the door. The ones she had been wary of. They are all clearly heavily intoxicated. There's a large man towering over a slight woman, getting into her personal space, intimidating. She can see the tell-tale sign of a fading yellowish bruise around one eye, the concealer she’s wearing to hide it not quite doing it’s job. She's dismayed to see that several others around the table appear to be laughing and egging him on.

She looks back to catch Sara’s eye, only to find the other woman no longer in her presence. Ava hadn’t even noticed her leave.

It takes her brain a second to catch up.

She looks back over to the table as a new voice rings out above the others.

“I believe the lady said no, _asshole_.”

Sara gets in the man’s face, a firm hand pushing him back, creating space between him and the woman. The man's face darkens at the intrusion.

“This don’t have nothing to do with you _dyke_. Why don’t you fuck off back over there to your bitch girlfriend.”

Ava is half way over to them but stops dead at his words, ones which could be heard clear across the bar. She watches Sara’s reaction. The way her weight shifts onto her back foot, how she pretends to be relaxed, even as Ava sees the coiling of energy like a physical thing, ready to snap.

She starts back over to them, already knowing she's too late.

“Okay firstly, I’m bi... And secondly...”

She grins, and then throws all of her weight into a punch which hits him square in the jaw. There's an audible crack, and he staggers back a few feet under the weight of it. He braces himself against the table, dazed.

It takes him less than a second to decide to fight back. He charges at Sara, but of course the ex-assassin is ready for him. She side-steps as he reaches her, and then she uses his momentum to smash his head into the table. The man crumples to the floor.

That’s all it takes for the rest of the table, the rest of the bar - Ava included, who until now had been held spellbound, to come alive, and pandemonium breaks loose.

Three men rush Sara at once, while others scream and cower away. Even three on one the men are nowhere near a match for Sara. She takes one out with a high kick before he even gets close. The second man is on her instantly, but she grabs him and slams the heel of her left palm up into the centre of his nose. His head snaps back and blood gushes out. She spins him roughly into the third man and they both tumble to the ground.

And then Ava is there in the fray. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the brute that started all this charge Sara with a smashed bottle. She doesn’t get to see what happens next as two of the three Sara just took down are back on their feet.

She circles them warily, arm out, keeping herself between them and Sara, drawing their attention.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you. If you back away and leave now then I won’t have to hurt you anymore than she already has.”

The men laugh arrogantly at her. In the background she can see the deathly-white face of the terrified bar tender speaking to someone on the phone as he cowers behind the bar. The police no doubt. She needs to deal with this quickly.

She blocks the first man’s punch and ducks away out of reach of the second. She meant what she said, she doesn’t want to harm them, but they’re leaving her no choice.

They’re on her again, refusing to give up. She uses one of the attackers as a brace, and swings her legs up and around the other man's neck, twisting just enough to bring him down. She hopes. As her feet touch the floor she allows her momentum to continue and rolls the first man over her back, then quickly, as she gets her balance, spins and plants a kick to the centre of his chest. He crashes heavily back into the table, the glasses and bottles smashing to the floor.

Nearby, Sara has her opponent on the floor. She’s kneeling over him, one knee in his chest pinning him to the floor. It doesn’t look necessary; the man's barely conscious. She’s got one fist wrapped in the shirt at his neck, gripping it tightly, so much so his shoulders are almost off the floor, his head lolling uselessly as he chokes on the blood running down the back of his throat. Her other hand is in a fist, up by her jaw. It looks bloody. Her arm is tense and trembling, like she's struggling to hold back the blow she desperately wants to deal him.

“We need to go. Now.”

Ava commands, running over to them, stopping at Sara's side. The look on the woman's face gives her pause. Her face is a mask of fury, her lips pulled up into a snarl. Her eyes, however, are conflicted, and even as Ava starts to speak again, hand reaching for Sara's fist to bring it back to her side, Sara's eyes snap up to look at Ava and her expression falls, the fury being replaced by realisation and horror. She lets the man go.

Ava's heart breaks for the woman but now isn’t the time for self recriminations.

She gently lays her hand on Sara’s shoulder; she’s still shaking. She flinches slightly at the touch.

“Its okay” Ava tells her gently. Even though it’s not really okay at all. “We just have to go now. _Please_.”

Sara pulls herself together enough to get hesitantly to her feet. Ava pushes the Captain ahead of herself towards the door. All eyes are on them, but no one tries to stop them from leaving.

Outside Ava can hear the sound of sirens, their wail drawing steadily nearer. Sara's still in a daze and so she grabs the woman’s wrist and pulls her round the corner into the nearest alleyway. Sara gets the jist, and they both sprint down the narrow street. Around the corner the alley comes to a dead end. Tall buildings rising up to bar their way on 3 sides.

There’s a fire escape a few yards back and Sara leads them to it. The iron steps begin on the first storey, and there’s a landing with an extendable ladder locked into place, which hangs down a couple of feet.

“This is our only way out.” She looks at Ava appraisingly. Her face is hard.

Ava tries to think for a second, to calm her thoughts enough to rationalise a solution, that’s what she’s good at after all. She knows Sara’s right. They can’t go back. By now the bar will be swarming with police.

Without a word to Sara, she crouches down underneath the ladder and then springs up, grabbing hold of the first rung and hanging on hard. When she's sure she has her grip, she pulls herself up, bar by bar, until she’s able to swing her feet up onto the platform, arms aching with the effort.

She looks for a catch to release the ladder, but then Sara’s already hanging onto the lowest rung, pulling herself up with ease. As though the effort was nothing at all, like a stroll in the park. As though she hadn’t just beaten the shit out of four men.

And then they’re stealing up the metal stairs, five storeys to the top. It’s a short jump across to the next roof, their only route of escape, but one which still has Ava’s heart in her mouth and palms sweating. But she refuses to be the weak link, refuses to appear as anything other than capable and tough in front of the other woman.

Sara looks at her like she can hear her thoughts. Appraises her. She’s evidently satisfied with what she finds because she gives Ava a nod and then, taking a few strides back, she runs, launching herself off the edge.

There is a moment where everything stops, and Ava can’t breathe. There’s a terrifying, paralyzing thought that Sara isn't going to make it, that she’ll be stuck in a horrendous version of the world that no longer includes this woman. But then Sara's feet land solidly on the roof, her momentum carrying her a few paces forwards before she steadily comes to a stop.

For a second Ava has a vision, and it isn’t Sara that turns to face her, but the Canary. She can clearly see her tight black leather outfit, the matching mask highlighting her sparkling eyes; blonde wig in place as she stands tall and proud in the rooftop playground that has become her haven.

The vision fades and it’s Sara that’s stood across from her, watching her, waiting patiently.

Ava backs up. Swallows down her fear. Let’s her doubts float away lest they force her down. She can do this. Sara's waiting for her only a few feet away. Sara who believes that she can make this. All Ava needs to do is trust in that belief. She realises almost belatedly that she does.

She takes a deep breath. She runs. Her eyes lock with Sara’s and then she's propelling herself off the rooftop.  
There’s nothing but air beneath her feet as time slows to a standstill. Their eyes are still locked, hers and Sara's, as if Sara’s a homing beacon pulling her in. She has the fleeting thought that she might be about to die. But then time jolts back into action and she’s rushing towards the rooftop, towards Sara, fast.

Her feet slam onto the edge of the terrace, the momentum carrying her forward even as Sara’s strong grip is on her, pulling her in. Her knees hit the concrete painfully, and her hands grind into the dirt and small pebbles that have collected there.

She's on all fours, breathing heavily until she thinks her lungs might burst. Sara's still holding her, kneeling down with her, like she’s unable to let her go. She allows herself to believe that, just maybe, Sara had been as scared as Ava herself had been.

She permits herself a few more moments of indulgence, to relish the fact that both of them are still alive, and then she picks herself up and dusts herself down. They’re still too close to the scene of the crime. She had almost forgotten, with the sudden rush of adrenaline, what they were doing up here in the first place.

They move off. Sara leading the way, navigating the twists and turns, the narrow walkways and dead-ends, and sudden steep drops of this chimney-top world.

Eventually, when Sara deems they have travelled far enough, they come to a stop. Ava rests against the wall and allows her eyes to close as she catches her breath. As she tries to work out how they went from slow dancing in a bar to running from the law.

She realises that Sara's looking down at her bandaged hand, flexing it, a slight grimace on her face at the movement. Evidently she's managed to exacerbate her injury during the fight. The observation annoys Ava more than it probably should.

“ _Jesus_ Sara, have you actually ever managed to go into a bar without getting yourself into a bar-fight of some description? Ava asks.

Sara smiles and shakes her head at the question-cum-observation-cum-gentle reprieve. But underneath the teasing tone, it’s not a question to be taken lightly, and they both know it. The smile fades from Sara’s face before it ever truly reaches her eyes.

“That bastard got what he deserved Ava.” Sara defends.

“There is _no_ excuse for a man to ever force a woman into doing something she doesn’t want to. Just because he’s bigger, or more powerful, or feels like he’s got the right just cos he’s got other men at his back telling him it’s okay. It is _never_ okay.” There is a passion behind her words, Ava's almost blown away by the strength of it.

But then she pictures that man’s face in the end, swollen and bloody. A slab of raw steak underneath Sara's hands. She feels a little sick at the thought.

“He deserved to be stopped, yes. He deserves to be locked away for a long time judging by that poor girls face...” She pauses. There’s a ‘but’ coming, and she needs Sara’s full attention for what she's about to say.

She looks her straight in the eye as she continues.

“But you’re not a vigilante anymore Sara. You’re more than that now. More than just someone who beats up the latest thug of the week and saves a few people...No, listen to me a minute...” She stops as she sees Sara about to argue, about to shut her down. She holds up her hands in front of her, in a gesture that asks Sara to wait.

It surprises her more than a little when Sara does as she asks and backs down.

“I’m not saying that’s not important. What I’m trying to say, Sara, is that your job is more important than anything. By doing what you do you literally save everyone that’s ever been born, and everyone who's yet to be born. And it’s not heroic or filled with any chance of glory, and no one will ever even say thank you for risking everything, again, because they won’t even know that you risked anything in the first place. I understand that sometimes it gets hard, and lonely and God can it be frustrating...

“I get that your instinct is to protect people, Sara, sometimes over your own safety, and sometimes even if there is a price for you to pay. I...” She stops, having to swallow against the sudden lump in her throat. She doesn’t know where they came from, these words. And it catches her off guard just how much she means them. “..I know it doesn’t always seem that way, but I do admire that about you.”

Sara's looking down, staring intently at the floor. There’s a look about her that Ava can’t place. Contrite. Ashamed maybe. But more than that. There’s a small frown creasing her brow and her lips are pursed. It’s as though she's hearing things that she'd never even considered before now. At Ava's final words she looks up abruptly, astonishment written on her features.

“But you were out of control in there today Sara.” She pre-empts the woman's denial, “You were. What if something had gone wrong? What if we hadn’t gotten out of there before the police arrived, would you have hurt them in order for us to escape? What if your dad was there? What if you had killed that man Sara? Would you even have been able live with yourself?

“I might not have known you all that long, but I know that today, Sara, that’s not you. And I don’t know what’s going on with you. But you need to get it under control, because you can’t go on like this.”

Sara can’t quite meet her eye again. She's taking deep breaths and exhaling through her nose, trying to control some emotion. Ava can almost sense rather than see the tiny tremors wracking her body. When she speaks, her voice is low, her words slow and deliberate.

“You’re right. I didn’t have control, and I could have killed that man. I wanted to, or at least a part of me did. I _thought_ I had a handle on it, the bloodlust... It’s never really been gone, but...”

She looks up, her eyes finally meeting Ava's. The fear she can read within their depths is heart wrenching.

“...But last week... and then again today. Ava, I don’t know what’s going on. I _thought_ I was past this. I _don’t know_ how to stop it, to stop myself. And... and that terrifies me.”

Ava can see the pain and frustration the other woman is so clearly struggling to control stamped everywhere about her; her posture, the way her hands ball into fists without any way to release the energy, the slump of her shoulders and the fear and anguish written across her face.

She steps into Sara’s space, cupping her face, using the pads of her thumbs to tenderly caress away the tears that have escaped the corner of her eyes.

Sara squeezes her eyes tightly closed, sniffing hard then exhaling. Putting herself back together lest anyone, god-forbid, see her as anything other than unerringly strong.

“Tell me how to help you Sara.” She whispers.

“I don’t know.” Sara returns, equally softly leaning into the touch. Ava's glad she can, at least, provide some measure of support.

“How long has this been going on for?” She asks.

“I’ve been angry since Martin” Sara starts, after such a lengthy pause that Ava hadn't been sure she was going to respond at all. “And even before that, since Darhk came back, again. But...” She pauses to consider her words and Ava finds she is able to finish them herself.

“But you didn’t have a problem when you were fighting the Vikings? Or before that?”

“No.”

The implication isn’t lost on either of them.

She can see Sara's walls coming back up, see her drawing herself back and locking herself in. The Captain steps away, leans against the railing guarding against the steep drop, looks out over the city.

It looks pretty from this vantage. The glittering lights sprawling out away from them, as if this point is the centre of the whole universe. You can’t see the grime and the dirt of the streets below, hidden under the blanket of darkness. There are no stars visible overhead, but the night sky is filled with the twinkling lights of the air traffic, set against the backdrop of the full moon. Its almost romantic. She imagines that Sara is looking out over this city that used to be hers with fondness in her eyes. Maybe a touch of longing. Ava can’t see her face, hidden as it is in the shadows, and so she is left to guess.

It’s all a phantom anyway. This beauty. And if she looks hard enough she can see it’s true face underneath. The homeless littering the doorways, the drunken and the destitute. A mother and two children begging on the corner to people who don’t give a damn, even as they empty their pockets of small change. The drug addled hooker stumbling out of a motel, a flash car pulling off into the night. And out from the din of the city, the honking of impatient drivers and clattering of traffic on the busy streets, comes the melody of sirens everywhere, echoing off the buildings.  
  
They stand there in silence for another moment. Sara feels very distant from her all of a sudden. Ava can't bear it.

“Don’t shut me out Sara please. Don’t start pretending that everything is fine, that you don’t have feelings.” There’s a note of pleading in Ava’s voice.

“What else do you suggest I do Ava?" Sara’s own voice is firm now, set with resolve. “I don’t have the luxury of running away, even if I wanted to. Especially not now.” She looks over at Ava and must see something within her eyes, and when she speaks next her words are softer.

“I promise you, I’m gonna do everything I can to get this under control. But the priority _has_ to be stopping Mallus and Darhk. And to do that I have to stay strong, and if that means I have to put my feelings aside, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

She’s right, of course. Ava doesn’t like it, not one bit, but she's just going to have to accept it and be there for the Captain when she needs her.

“I know.” She says, for lack of anything better.

By some unspoken agreement they descend from the rooftop and back down to the streets below. Ava knows this is the end of the night. She wonders, vaguely, what would've happened had they not become involved in the bar fight. Would they still be out, drinking in some other bar, dancing together? Would they be back at her place...? She stops that thought quickly, before she has a chance to complete it.

“Sara...” She says, at the same time her companion says

“Ava...”

It’s almost sweet in its awkwardness. She lets Sara speak first,

“I wanted to say thanks for today, and tonight. I actually had a good time, well, before...”

“Not a problem, and me too.”

They are standing close together. Closer than Ava would normally be comfortable with. Once again, she finds her eyes are drawn to Sara’s. She watches as Sara’s own eyes flick downwards to land on her lips, just for a moment. In her chest Ava's heart rate spikes.

It’s Sara in the end, who closes the gap between them and brushes their lips together.

It’s chaste really. Nothing like their first kiss. Sara's lips are soft under her own, and Ava can taste the subtle hints of cherry lip balm and stale beer. She inhales through her nose, and is surrounded by the scent of the other woman. Coconut and vanilla musk, a whisper of leather, and something else entirely unique to Sara.

And then it’s over and Sara's pulling away, looking down as if she could actually feel shy. Brushing at her blazer needlessly. She clears her throat.

“I should probably...” Sara gestures behind her, pointing. “Get back to the Waverider. Make sure the ships still in one piece after my absence, you know.”

“Right. And I should... probably too. I’ll see you, Sara.”

“You too.” Sara bites her lip and it’s the sexiest thing Ava’s seen in a while. She’s so close to grasping her hand and holding on, stopping her from walking away. But then Sara's already turned around, walking off down the street, leaving Ava to watch longingly after her retreating form.

***

After Sara leaves, Ava stands where she is for several long minutes. Once she’s out of sight completely Ava shakes her head to try and clear the sudden paralysis she feels. She checks her courier, and is surprised to see a new communication. Funny, she didn’t hear anything come in. Then again she has been quite distracted for the past few hours.

It’s from Director Bennett. He has scheduled in an urgent meeting for tomorrow morning.

Dread immediately sets in as all the reasons he could have for wanting to see her flash through her head. She feels sick. She knows she’s been neglecting her bureau duties of late, it’s bound to have been noted. And what she did just today is not only grounds for dismissal but she could quite possibly end up as Rip Hunter’s cell mate. She can’t believe she was stupid enough to believe she would get away with it. How could she have been such an idiot?

Clearly that’s what happens to you when you start to fall in love with Sara Lance.

She stops herself. She’s being unfair, she doesn’t think of Sara as anything even close to an idiot anymore, and....

Ava chokes. For a full minute she can’t breathe, she stands there gagging as she tries to force the air into her lungs. As she finally registers exactly what it was she just thought. _Falling in love with._

No.

She starts to hyperventilate, right there on the street.

She wasn't thinking properly, there’s so much else going on in her head. She didn’t mean _love_. Clearly.

Okay, yes she likes the woman. Quite a lot actually. And she can admit that she’s attracted to her. Drawn to her in a way she hasn’t been to anyone in a long time. So yes, maybe she’s falling for her. But certainly not in love with.

She swallows as she finally manages to get her breathing under control. Desperately hoping she hasn’t attracted any unwanted attention with her little meltdown.

She starts to walk. She intends to go home but then she thinks of sitting, alone with her thoughts, and she can’t do it.

And so she doesn’t go home. She wanders around the streets, aimless, with thoughts and emotions whirring in her head. Her feet, as her heart, leading her down an unexpected path...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that was a bit of a mission!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this 'episode'. 
> 
> Does anyone have any thoughts about the length of the chapters? Does it work splitting the last chapter into 2 parts? Would you have preferred just 1 long chapter? Indifferent, or just still too much in general? 
> 
> I'm still planning to continue this series and add more 'episodes' when I can, so any feedback would be appreciated.
> 
> On that note, I've got the next episode planned out roughly in my head, should be more action/adventure, finally include team Legends, and play out more like an episode from the show... just to give you a little taster.
> 
> Thanks again for reading... and enjoy the series when it starts back tomorrow :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm, so that's part 1 of 2...
> 
> A little different!
> 
> I'm not sure how well all that interaction with Rip - and the things about him I was trying to portray - came across. 
> 
> When it comes to Rip and his relationship with Sara, I have certain headcannons about it. Some of which I have hinted at here. I'm not gonna say too much cos it might come up a bit later on as well, but don't worry, I DO NOT ship Sara and Rip, not in that way anyway.
> 
> I'm hoping it won't be too long to wait for the next chapter. Hopefully that might be a little bit lighter and a bit more fun with them interacting on their not quite date ;) 
> 
> Let me know what you think anyway!!


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